Always Amy

by Kali Hart

  Always Amy

  Reynolds Family

  Kali Hart

  Always Amy is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Kali Hart

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author/publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  1

  AMY

  I’ve made wiser decisions than renting a place off of Craigslist, sight unseen.

  But if I’m being honest, I’ve made worse.

  Moving back home with less than five-hundred dollars, for instance.

  Topping that list, however, is dating that jackass Jason. I left behind my friends and family to follow him to New York. He promised me we’d both get the chance to fulfill our dreams. But in the end, I realized that he only meant that for himself.

  I pay the Uber driver, thankful the place wasn’t too far from the bus station—never in my life did I imagine myself on a bus for twenty-six hours. I don’t have much money left. Just what little I got for pawning that cheap ring. I shouldn’t have been surprised to find it worth so little.

  I double check the address from the online advertisement I’ve stored on my phone. This gray two-story house with a covered front porch is the right place. 3455 Big Elk. I’ve only corresponded with a man named Reid, but from the looks of this house I suspect Reid and his family live here.

  Hopefully I can wrap up this rental deal quickly. I need to be down at Rusty’s Nail for an interview in a couple of hours. Bartending isn’t my number one choice, but I’m back to square one and willing to take the job if it means I can save up money. Someday I hope my writing will pay all my bills. But until then, I’ll do what I need to.

  One of my two suitcases drags awkwardly from its broken wheel. Even the luggage my ex bought me for a birthday gift is a cheap knockoff. I abandon them both at the foot of the porch stairs. Before I can make it to the door to knock, it opens. The man that steps through takes my breath away.

  “Can I help you?” he asks.

  Words tangle on my tongue. He’s tall… so tall. I bet the top of my head barely reaches his muscular pecks on full display with that tight gray T-shirt. Everything about him is delicious, from those sky-blue eyes to the way his muscles flex when he folds his arms.

  “Miss?”

  His voice brings me back to reality. Back to his front porch—to his family’s front porch—and to the very fact that I gave up men. After Jason, I realize they’re not worth the trouble. I don’t need another one in my life that’ll make promises he won’t keep. “Hi, I’m Amy.”

  “Amy?” His eyebrows draw together.

  “Amy Reynolds. I contacted you about the rental?” My heart accelerates in my chest. I thought he was expecting me, but now I’m not so sure someone else didn’t snatch my rental from under me. It was a smokin’ deal I couldn’t pass up. I could live with my sister if it came down to it, but Katy has her hands full with her own family. “Is it still available?”

  “Yes. I just—I expected someone… different. That’s all.”

  REID

  Never mix business with pleasure.

  That’s the warning that flashes through my mind the second I realize the woman standing on my front porch is my new tenant. The attraction is not just instant, it’s potent. She’s simply standing there, waiting for me to show her the garage apartment. But she might as well be a siren luring me over the edge.

  “It’s not much of a place,” I finally say. Though I’m quite proud of the garage space I converted into a small, but functional studio apartment, it doesn’t seem like something that’ll wow this woman. I’m no expert on fashion, but that floral print dress looks expensive. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer an apartment? I have a friend who manages—”

  “No.” She folds her arms over her chest, and anything the dress was hiding is hiding no more. I avert my eyes from her bountiful tits pressed together by her arms, but my dick twitches beneath my jeans anyway. “I want your rental. It’s furnished, right?”

  If by furnished she means it has a pull-out couch and a coffee table, then yes. “You won’t have to sit on the floor if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Can I see it then?”

  “Let me grab the key.” I rush inside, relieved for a moment to catch my breath and adjust my jeans. In her email, she asked for a three-month lease. Three whole months with her strutting around? I don’t know if I can handle it.

  “Are you coming?” I hear her holler through the screen door. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

  I pull the key off its hook and leave the paperwork on the counter. I’m still not convinced she won’t run when she sees how simple this apartment is compared to her extravagant tastes. She has spoiled city girl written all over her. I’d love a chance to bring her down a notch, bending her over—

  “Did you get lost in there?”

  I’m back on the porch in two seconds flat. If she came through that front door, I might not be able to control myself. I’d push her up against the wall and kiss her until she was nothing but a puddle in my arms. And that’s only where I’d start. “Where did you say you were coming from?”

  “I didn’t.” A mischievous twinkle in those emerald eyes makes me swallow. Her spunk does something to me.

  “Follow me.” Picking up her suitcases, I lead her around behind the main house, to the detached garage. I wonder how long it’ll take for her to change her mind about the place. I expected a college kid or a bachelor to answer the ad. Not this curvy, young beauty.

  “Nice house,” she says to me. “Have you and your family lived here long?”

  She’s fishing. I’m in trouble. I consider lying and making up a fake family, if only to ensure I follow my number one rule. Her eyes flash to my naked left hand. It’s no use. She’d figure out the lie pretty quickly. “It’s just me.”

  “Hmm.”

  I shouldn’t care what that simple little noise means, but I do. “It’s not much.” I point to the garage apartment and wait for her to run the other way.

  “Love the flowers. It’s cute. Quaint.”

  Quaint? She seems too young to use a word like that. I’ve got at least ten years on her, and I’m thirty-four. I unlock the door and step back to let her check out the place. Only her first steps are cautious. Then she’s marching all over the open room, her heeled boots echoing on the wood floors.

  This time, I don’t avert my eyes as that perfect, round ass sways with each step. “What do you think?”

  Amy fishes in her purse and hands me cash. “Here’s the deposit. I’ll take it.”

  Guilt twists in my stomach at taking the money from her—even just the mere hundred dollars—but I can’t explain why. It’s a business transaction, nothing more. She’s my tenant, and I’m the landlord. “Do you need anything?”

  She spins on her heel and faces me. The sunlight cutting in through the window illuminates that golden hair. She looks like an angel. My angel a voice whisper
s in my head.

  “Nope, just my key.”

  I should just leave it on the kitchenette counter, but I can’t resist the temptation to feel the graze of her soft skin when I hand it to her. “I’m just a few yards away.” I realize how much of an invitation that sounds like, and I should correct myself. Instead, I turn and walk out the door, leaving Amy to think whatever she wants of my words.

  2

  AMY

  The old me would’ve scoffed at a place like this, but the new me is actually excited. It’s the first thing that I can say is mine—and mine alone—in a long time.

  The studio apartment is sparse, but there’s a cushy pullout couch that looks like heaven after a day of traveling more than twenty-four hours on a bus. If I didn’t have to shower and get ready for an interview, I’d take a nap right now. The temptation would be a little stronger if my sexy new landlord wanted to take one with me.

  I shake away the fantasy trying to play out in my head. Focus, Amy.

  It’s the simple writing desk in the corner, facing the window, that sold me, though. I spent three years waiting for Jason to come through on his promise. But weeks, then months went by. He always had an excuse when I asked about meeting the book editor from a prestigious publishing house that he swore his friend knew.

  I’ve emptied half a can of hairspray by the time I go to leave, hoping it’ll be enough to survive the journey. Luckily the bar – Rusty’s Nail – is only seven blocks away. It’s one of the reasons I rented this place.

  That, and it’s so cheap it should be a crime.

  But it’s the smoking hot landlord that I haven’t been able to get out of my head this whole time. No amount of resolve to swear off men has pushed him out of my thoughts. There’s a smolder to his eyes that lights my panties on fire.

  Even if I just swore off relationships, it would be tricky to pull off a one-night stand with someone I’ll have to see every day for three months—the length of time I expect it to take to get on my feet. Besides, I don’t even know him.

  “At least he’s not an axe murderer,” I mumble to myself as I lock up. “At least he doesn’t look like one.” I’m sure my sister would ask if I thought of that before answering an ad on Craigslist. When I finally tell her I’m in town, that is. I’m not in a hurry to admit to any of my siblings that I’ve come home with my tail tucked between my legs.

  “Headed out already?” Reid asks in that deep, sexy voice of his. He’s in his backyard, flipping meat on a grill. I don’t know what he’s cooking, but it smells wonderful. I haven’t eaten a decent meal in days. Nothing better than Cheetos and packaged donuts on that entire bus ride.

  “Job interview.”

  I should make a quick escape, but my rumbling stomach and breaking resolve draw me nearer to the grill and its grill master. The man just oozes sex with a single look. My panties will be soaked for three months straight at this rate.

  Reid’s intense eyes assess my outfit, and I suddenly feel self-conscious. I should’ve put on my jacket before I walked out the door to cover the bold red top and the generous amount of cleavage meant to help secure a job. The attention is thrilling, yet there’s something more to his gaze. He… disapproves?

  “Tonight?” he asks. “Where at?”

  “Yep, tonight.” I’m made a pact with myself not to tell any man too much about myself. I figured I’d need that as a bartender. “Whatcha cooking?”

  “Just some brats.”

  I haven’t had a brat since I moved. My ex always insisted we eat at the finest restaurants, despite the cost we couldn’t afford. Just the idea of a brat or a hot dog from a food cart was enough to spark an argument between us. “That’s a lot of brats for one guy.”

  “Thought you might be hungry.”

  I’m ravenous, but I’m also at risk of being late for this interview. I’m a shoe-in for the job with my experience, but the owner was clear on one important detail. Show up on time, or don’t bother coming at all. “I can’t.”

  “I’ll save you one.”

  “That’s sweet. Thank you.”

  I shimmy into the jacket, but Reid’s eyes never leave me. “You need a ride?”

  Because Jason convinced me to sell my car before we moved and then proceeded to use all my money to get us settled in New York, I don’t have my own ride. It’s why I went with the silky red revealing top—to get good tips. “Aren’t you in the middle of something?” I point to the brats on the grill.

  “They’re done.”

  I watch him plate the meat, knowing I should decline the ride. But I am tired. Walking half a mile wouldn’t appeal to me if I was wearing sneakers, much less the heels I picked out. If I land the job, I’ll likely get put to work on the spot. It’s how any other bartending job has gone for me. “Sure, I could use a ride.”

  REID

  Had my tenant been some middle-aged woman or college kid—or anyone but Amy—I wouldn’t be offering her a ride right now. I’m not a taxi service. I’m a landscaper. But apparently, I’ve forgotten that tonight. “Give me two minutes.” I’d invite her in, but then I worry we’d never leave.

  The lease agreement is still resting on my kitchen counter, but it feels wrong somehow to have her sign it. Instead, I shove it in a drawer. If she lasts more than a couple of days, I’ll put my landlord hat back on then.

  I repeat my rule to myself, but my determination to stick to it is quickly fading.

  The minute I saw her in that revealing red shirt and those practically painted on jeans, my dick lurched in my jeans. Hiding behind my grill was the only way to keep my reaction concealed.

  Amy Reynolds is a knockout anyway, but in that outfit, she’s a dessert I want to eat up, one delicious bite at a time. All her curves are showcased in the best way. I’m practically salivating over my sink right now, unable to clear the image from my mind.

  I force myself to think about how many anchor blocks I’ll need for tomorrow’s landscaping project, and my dick calms down enough to go back outside without embarrassment. “Ready?”

  “A lifted truck, huh?” Amy tilts her head, gaze fixed on the passenger door. “And no step to get in.”

  She’s at least eight or nine inches shorter than I am. Add in the boots, and there’s no way she’s getting in the truck on her own. Can’t say I’m sad about that. It gives me an excuse to open the door. “Let me help you in.” Amy drapes an arm over my neck, and I breathe in her intoxicating perfume as her hand presses against my shoulder as leverage. I fight the urge to nip her neck.

  My gaze drops down the vee of her shirt. Though I’m enjoying the display, I’m uneasy about anyone else sharing my view.

  “Where is this interview?” I ask once I’m in the truck.

  “Rusty’s Nail.”

  My fingers clench the steering wheel as I turn onto the road. The last place I want her to be is in that dive bar, being ogled by all the men that frequent that place. They’ll be all over her. “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t want to work there.” I crawl the truck down the street, but I missed a turn on purpose. I spent a few too many nights at that bar over the last broken heart a couple of years ago. It’s no place for a woman like Amy.

  “I do, actually.”

  “You have any office experience?” The idea springs to mind so suddenly that I don’t really have time to think through it. I’ve been tossing around the idea of hiring an office assistant for some time now. I’m tired of doing it all myself. Add to that I’m desperate to keep her away from that bar, and I just created a new position at Reid’s Landscaping and Design.

  “You hiring or something?” There’s a teasing, borderline flirtatious edge to her tone as she leans over the center console. Her lips are much too close. I imagine them circling my cock.

  “I need a receptionist.” I own my own company, and have a couple guys who work for me. But I’ve always done all my own office work. All calls get forwarded to my cell phone. Some days it rings off the hook.


  “Not interested.” Amy folds her arms across her chest, and I swear those tits are going to fall right out of that shirt. I want to be the only man who sees this show. I’m determined to keep her away from the bar and closer to me, even if the position isn’t quite in my budget.

  “I’ll give you a month’s free rent.”

  Her lips part, as if she was ready with a retort she can no longer use. “Make it two.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Amy.” I love the way her name feels on my lips, not to mention her strong negotiating tactics. She’s not afraid to stand up for what she wants. It’s sexy. “Two months…”

  “Do we have a deal?”

  I could use the extra rental income, but I don’t really need it. Converting the garage was something to keep me busy. Something to help distract me from the fact that my large house is empty. “Your rent is free for two months, as long as you don’t step foot inside Rusty’s Nail.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. If you want to bartend, you pay rent. Simple as that.” My heart beats in my chest like an active thunderstorm as I wait for her to agree. I don’t know what I’ll do if she declines the offer. There’s a burning feeling in my gut that says she’s mine to protect. I can’t do that very well if she’s tending bar and flirting for tips.

  “Fine, it’s a deal.”

  3

  AMY

  Answering phones for a landscaping company was not exactly what I had in mind when I got on that bus two days ago. But free rent is hard to pass up. Hopefully it’ll make up for what I won’t make in tips and give me a chance to get on my feet again. Just wish the paycheck was a little more instant.